“Don’t do this. Please. Laird?”
His name caught in her throat. Denial churned in her belly. This was not supposed to happen. Laird was supposed to be sixty-six when he died. His tombstone at Dunskirk had marked the date. Thirty-three more years, she was due. Time enough to love for a lifetime. To hold him for a lifetime.
To make it enough for her.
But there would never be enough time with him, she realized. No matter what she’d told Donell. How naïve she’d been! Five years…ten…fifty. No amount of time would be long enough for all the love she had to give him.
She needed an eternity. Now, she’d never have it. Never be able to pour out all the love she carried for him.
Scarlett clasped his unresponsive hand again and pressed her lips to his fingers. Still warm with life, but fading. Desolation thrust the numbness inside her aside, letting the pain rush in.
“No, Laird. No,” she whimpered pitifully. This couldn’t be real. “No. Please, please, please.”
Tears started to flow and she buried her face against his shoulder with a desperate prayer on her lips. There was no steady heartbeat to comfort her. No strong arms to hold her.
“Oh God, no.” A shudder racked her shoulders.
He was gone.
Crushing misery gripped Scarlett’s heart like a vise until anguish erupted from the break. Agony spread through her chest, hot as fire to steal her breath. A forlorn sob built up inside of her and surfaced with raw emotion. Another slashed her soul.
No. No.
“Lai-ai-aird!” The lingering lament hung in the air.
“Lass…Lass.”
Lifting her head, Scarlett almost expected to find Jameson pointing a gun at her again. For the second time in as many minutes, Scarlett waited for death to take her. This time she wasn’t sure it wouldn’t be a blessing.
“Lass…” Donell’s rasp reached her at last. “Help me. Reach it.”
He was trying to dig into his pocket but was too weak. Numb, Scarlett did help him, retrieving a smooth, white oval object. No bigger than a flattened egg.
“Gi’ it to me, lass.” She put it in his hand. He ran his thumb over it and a series of blue lights appeared. “Step back.”
She dropped back on her heels. A heartbeat later, he vanished.
She didn’t care where he’d gone this time.
Couldn’t.
It didn’t matter anymore.
Scarlett collapsed across Laird’s motionless body. Her heaving sobs…
And Emmy’s, the only reality left to her.
Scarlett
Scarlett stared at the door, dazed and confused. Her head swam dizzily and she pressed her fingertips to her temple, unsure what was going on. The peal of the Canongate Toll Booth Clock rang out in the distance to mark the hour.
Bong. Dong. Bong. Dong.
Four strikes? Why didn’t that seem accurate?
“Scarlett!”
At the sound of that dear, deep voice, something inside of her snapped. Ecstatic relief she couldn’t identify a reason for. She spun around and saw Laird, Connor and Emmy sprinting toward her. Alive. Well.
